Heartsick
by Anxious Owl
Summary: He had thought that Holby would've been a fresh start. He had been wrong. Angsty AU. Dylan/Sam oneshot.


I wrote this ages ago, before the whole marriage shebang came out. I thought I'd just get it out there because it was cluttering up my folder (and because I haven't updated anything else for a while...) *pulls collar nervously*

Enjoy, folks.

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Heartsick

_Stupid, stupid..._

He had no idea what had possessed him to do what he had just done. He had never felt so... unbalanced, so _distressed._ His demeanour was usually collected, concentrated – but compared to now, he felt like he was about to fall apart. He dragged his fingers along his scalp backwards until his hands rested behind his neck, hanging there limply.

Dervla came padding into the kitchen and, having sensed her master's discomfort, was quiet, watching him warily beneath the shadow of the kitchen units. Dylan didn't give her a moment's notice. His brow furrowed and his eyes settled on a dark place in the corner of the kitchen as he summoned up the disastrous scene that had played out in the locker room only fifteen minutes prior.

_He had barged through the door in silent fury, his wife following behind him. She had been treating a drunk with mild head injury. His behaviour was surly and uncooperative. The man's girlfriend had brought him in, obviously concerned. Even more so when he revealed half a broken bottle that had been successfully hidden in a large pocket of his combat jacket, and began to brandish it at her like a baseball bat. Sam, being the undying brave heart that she was, leapt between them; Dylan could only look on helplessly from the opposite side of the room as security attempted to overpower him. They succeeded, but not before the inebriated man was able to lunge one last time in Sam's direction._

After the whole debacle, he realised that his heart had literally jerked the moment Sam ducked for cover. He laughed bitterly in his head at that. Never had his mind ceased to function like it had then because of a woman. One woman.

_His shoulders and face were tense, hand on his hips and his back to her until he heard the door close behind them. He rounded on her._

"_What, can you explain, was that?" pointing to a random spot behind her, hand on his hip._

_She glared at him sharply, "Um, let me see, he was going to hurt her?"_

"_That didn't mean you had to be the one to intervene!"_

"_One more second and we'd have had another serious casualty. It only takes one second for a rupture, a haemorrhage; the whole scenario can change in a second. You, as a doctor, should be able to understand that!" She pointed at his chest._

"_I do. But our job description does not extend to handling violent assault. Only treating it, sometimes reporting it - but never getting involved directly in it. At least not here. Maybe back in the army, but not here."_

Ah, bad move.

_Her jaw visibly hardened and her eyes flashed at having her military career thrown into play, "Of course, brilliant advice from Dylan Keogh, the shining example!" she advanced, her anger climaxing, "Tell me, why do you even care anymore? It's my life. Why are always getting at me for every little thing I do?"_

"_Maybe because you're so blind! Blind to the fact that I love you!" he blurted out, and his fury disappeared as quickly as it had come._

_His face dropped slightly, his mind having only just caught up with his mouth. What had he done?_

_She mirrored his shocked expression. For a rare moment in his life he focussed on her eyes and not the wall, searching for the reason for his outburst. The anger in her hazels was still there, but there was understanding, too. Understanding of why he had overreacted so badly; he still loved her. His eyes were stuck on her face, willing her to say and do the right thing - whatever that was._

_It felt like an age when they both began to breathe again. He watched her expectantly, only a small sliver of his composure reclaimed._

_She shook her head and her eyes darted around the floor, her breaths coming out heavy and ragged._

"_No, no...," she clamped her slim hands over her face and muttered to herself, only inches from tears, "You are joking me..."_

_The little optimism he had began to ebb away._

He had probably looked like a complete and utter fool; reduced to an emotional wreck by a woman who would never take him back.

_She sniffed and met his eyes, something he wasn't sure she would be able to bring herself to do again._

"_It's too late, Dylan. I can't- I can't deal with this anymore. We might've been able to in the past, but not now. I just want to get on with my job and live like normal, just for once." She suddenly looked very tired._

_His eyes dropped to the ground. It had been a long shift, for the both of them. He wanted to go home. She made to turn, but stopped._

"_...Why?"_

_He looked back up at her. Her head was lowered, and she had said it more to herself than him, as if trying to work it out in her head. She continued, now bringing her head up just enough so as to question him with her eyes._

"_Why now? Why not when_ _I asked?"_

_Her emotional reserve was spent._

_She left without another word._

Dervla growled softly, almost comfortingly, as though she understood. He glanced down at her and pursed his lips in thought. His gaze shifted to the door. Despite his companion's wimpering insistence, he returned within several minutes, having managed to procure a cheap bottle from the nearby off-licence. He didn't care what it was, as long as it contained enough alcohol to let him erase the day from his mind (_even though it would still be in hers_). He had spent so much time painstakingly erecting defenses against the demon drink, convincing himself that he didn't need it, and he found it ironic; the very reason he gave up was the same reason he began again. Life was funny like that, he concluded.

Maybe - he swung the bottle upwards to let the liquid amber slosh down the neck - maybe he could finally obtain that utmost level of apathy he had spent far, far too long only pretending to have.

Slumped on the sofa, each mouthful he swallowed beat against the walls of his heart, gradually eroding her away.

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This is intended to be a one-shot-thingie.

Let me know what you think with the nifty new review box below!


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